


she was lovely

by onakissgodknows



Series: (almost) every inception pairing [1]
Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: F/M, Implied/Referenced Suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-26
Updated: 2020-02-26
Packaged: 2021-02-18 23:23:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,482
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22901500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onakissgodknows/pseuds/onakissgodknows
Summary: Arthur and Mal's relationship, before, during, and after.
Relationships: Arthur/Mal Cobb, Dom Cobb/Mal Cobb
Series: (almost) every inception pairing [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1646140
Comments: 2
Kudos: 5





	she was lovely

_Before_

New Year’s Eve. Arthur’s finally back in the States after a job took him away for nearly six months. They’d offered Cobb the job, too, but Cobb declined. James was still only a baby, and even though Mal had plenty of help between her parents and the children’s nanny, Cobb wanted to be there for his son.

Job done, and done well, Arthur comes home and heads to the New Year’s Eve gala Cobb and Mal are attending. It’s in an old estate up on the California coastline, owned by some rich businessmen the Cobbs and Arthur did a job for once upon a time.

It’s Mal he sees first when he enters the ballroom. She’s wearing a glittering black dress, and her eyes light up with a gasp when she sees him.

“Arthur!” she trills, dashing over to him. She presses kisses to both his cheeks. “I didn’t know you were coming! When did you get back?”

“Yesterday,” Arthur says, smiling and holding her by the arms. “You look beautiful, Mal.”

Mal smiles back, tilting her chin up. “None of these other Americans appreciate elegance the way you do. I always thought you ought to have been born in Paris, like me.”

“Arthur!” Cobb comes up behind Mal, slipping an arm around her waist and extending his free hand to shake Arthur’s. “Job went well?”

“Well enough,” Arthur says, giving his hand a squeeze. “Could have used you both. Eames makes me nervous.”

Mal lets out a musical laugh. “You’re far too inflexible. But that’s all right. I am flexible enough for all three of us.” She puts a hand on Cobb’s back. “Whenever are you going to come and sweep me away from this husband of mine?”

“If I thought Cobb would let me have a shot, I’d take it,” Arthur says with a laugh.

Cobb laughs too, and he and Mal kiss. He looks at Arthur and says, “There’s a man here who wants to talk to me about another job. Are you in if I am?”

Arthur frowns and Mal swats Cobb on the arm. “He only just got home, my love. Must we discuss work at a party?”

“Someone’s got to start bringing in money again,” Cobb jokes, but he kisses Mal on the forehead and squeezes her waist. “I won’t be long. Dance with Arthur, if you get lonely.” He gives Arthur a nod and disappears into the crowd.

Mal heaves a fond sigh. “That man, honestly, all this work talk all the time. I do think he’s ready to get back to it, though. The children keep us busy, but you know how he misses it.”

Arthur does. He’d like to say he’s not the same way, but once you start dreaming it’s hard to stop.

“Shall we get a drink?” Mal asks cheerfully, and takes Arthur by the arm to lead him to the bar set up against the back wall. The bartender serves them both glasses of expensive champagne, and Mal lifts hers in a toast. “Cheers to your homecoming.”

“I’ll drink to that.” Arthur clinks his glass against hers and sips. The champagne is sweet and bright. The room is crowded, but Mal is captivating as always. She truly has a way of making everything else disappear.

“How are the children?” Arthur asks her.

“Wonderful,” Mal says, beaming. “Oh, you know Phillipa would love to see you again, she’s always been so fond.”

“I’ll stop by soon.” He has no intention of taking up baby-sitting, but he has to admit he has always found Cobb and Mal’s children as charming as their mother.

“You’re always welcome.”

They finish their champagne and then, when Cobb doesn’t return, they hit the dance floor. The musicians are playing a stately waltz, and Mal laughs a little when she stumbles over her own feet.

“Dom and I are not much for dancing,” she admits, and then lets out a delighted squeal as the music picks up tempo and Arthur dips her. “Why does it not surprise me that you are?”

“It’s not by choice,” Arthur says. “I was forced to take dance lessons as a kid.” Arthur’s parents hadn’t been wealthy, rather, aggressively middle class, but some of his mother’s ideas of what constituted a well-rounded education had been positively Victorian. And, well, Arthur can’t say he completely hated it.

He pulls Mal back upright and she clutches his shoulders, giggling. “Look at what good it’s done you.”

Arthur’s line of work usually results in fistfights and shooting rather than dancing. It’s a welcome change.

After they tire of dancing, they wander the halls of the mansion, looking at the art the owner has displayed. Arthur and Mal’s tastes are not exactly the same, but she knows a lot about art, probably more than Arthur does, and the conversation is lively – and besides, Arthur loves seeing the genuine delight in Mal’s eyes when she finds a piece she particularly loves.

Then they’re on a balcony looking out over the hills, fresh glasses of champagne in their hands, and Arthur leans in and puts a hand on the small of her back. Mal sighs. “Quite un-husband-like for Dom to abandon me so.” Arthur knows their relationship well enough to know that Mal isn’t truly annoyed, she and Cobb love each other too deeply for that, though whenever Cobb does return she’ll certainly feign anger and request he make it up to her.

“Certainly not,” Arthur says.

Mal laughs. “Though the company is not bad at all, darling. I’m so glad you’re home.”

“Next time I’m off on a job, you’ll both have to join me.”

“We will,” Mal agrees. “Family is important, but our line of work is just so….”

“Exhilarating,” Arthur says, and his lips curl up into a slight smile.

“That’s the perfect word for it.” Mal gasps suddenly and points out over the hills. “Look, fireworks!”

There are indeed bright explosions of color on the horizon, along with distant booms, and cheering from downstairs. Mal grabs Arthur’s wrist and turns it to look at his watch, frowning. “It’s midnight already. Oh, Arthur, we missed it!”

“No, we didn’t miss it!” Arthur says reassuringly. “It’s still midnight. It’s the New Year.”

“Oh, well, in that case.” Mal places her hands on his face and kisses him gently on the lips. In her heels, they’re exactly the same height. “Happy New Year, Arthur.”

“Happy New Year, Mal.” Arthur can’t help smiling, his arms wrapped loosely around her waist.

“Happy New Year to you both,” says a voice, and they both turn to find Cobb standing there in the doorway, smiling at them. He’s anything but displeased. “Arthur, I didn’t think you’d actually try to sweep her away, yet here we are.”

“It was a friendly kiss, Dom,” Mal says, and she struts over to Cobb to kiss him in a way that distinctly indicates more than friendship. “I do love our Arthur so, though. I’d like to keep him around a little longer this time.”

Cobb smiles. “I know you said no work talk, but the good news is later this week I want to talk to both of you about another job, one we can work on together.” 

Mal glances back at Arthur and smiles. “That sounds perfect.”

_During_

Arthur raps on the Cobbs’ front door and Phillipa answers it, her face breaking into a smile when she sees him. “Arthur! James, Arthur is here!”

Arthur scoops Phillipa into his arms as James toddles out of the kitchen to cling to his leg. “Hello?” he calls, hoping to find Cobb or Mal home. He ruffles James’s hair and walks into the kitchen, where Mal is at the sink, watching water run down the drain. “Mal?”

Mal shuts off the water and glances over at him, her expression almost disgusted. “Oh, Arthur, it’s you.”

Arthur sets Phillipa down and she looks at her mother and then up at Arthur. She works her little hand into his. “Are you okay?” Arthur asks Mal cautiously.

“I’m fine,” she says dismissively, and walks past him for the back door. “Dom is outside. I’ll call him for you.” She opens the door and yells for Cobb to come inside, then shuts it and leans against the wall. Her face is blank, stony. She doesn’t speak to Arthur. She doesn’t even look at him.

“Mom?” Phillipa says hesitantly. When Mal doesn’t respond, Phillipa goes on, “Can I show Arthur my sketchbook? I want to show him the drawings I did at school.”

Mal shrugs. “If he wants to see, I suppose,” she says indifferently.

Phillipa turns her face up to Arthur again, and he enthusiastically asks her to get her sketchbook. Phillipa takes James by the hand and leads him out of the kitchen.

An uncomfortable silence fills the room after the children exit. Mal stares blankly at the wall. Arthur clears his throat and her eyes flick to him for a moment, then away again.

It feels like an eternity before Cobb comes in the back door, apologizing profusely to Arthur. Mal straightens up without a word to either of them and walks out the door Cobb’s just entered from.

Arthur looks at Cobb, utterly bewildered. “Is Mal okay?”

Cobb runs a hand through his hair, looking agitated. “I don’t know. She’s been having a rough time lately.”

“Lately?” It’s been awhile since Arthur has seen Mal, but she wasn’t like this last time they were together. She spoke to him with such cool indifference just now. It wasn’t as if she was angry; it was as if Arthur wasn’t even there, like he was as insignificant as a projection in one of their shared dreams. “How long’s this been going on?”

“A few months.” Cobb seems to chew his words carefully before spitting them out. “She’s….listen, don’t worry about it, Arthur. I’m sorry she was rude to you. We’re starting her with a new therapist next week, and she’s going to be fine.”

“Of course she is,” Arthur says, because it seems like that’s what Cobb needs him to say. “Cobb, it’s Mal. She’s stronger than anybody I know.”

Cobb nods, but his face, like Mal’s, indicates that his thoughts are far away.

_After_

Arthur is away working when he hears the news, from an online news source – _Daughter of famed architecture professor dead in California, husband suspected_ – and Arthur has to remind himself to breathe.

He watches rain lashing his hotel windows, and calls Cobb.

“Where are you?” Cobb asks as soon as he picks up.

“Chicago.” Arthur clears his throat. “Cobb, I’m sorry.”

“I don’t know what to do.”

“They’re saying you did it.”

“I know.”

Arthur shouldn’t ask but he has to – can’t stop himself – “Did you?”

Silence on the other end for a moment. “How can you even ask me that?” Cobb hisses. “How can you think that of me?”

“Cobb, I’d never think you did it out of malice, but we know what Mal has been like lately – if it was an accident, maybe she came at you and you had to defend yourself – “ Mal dying at Cobb’s hand by accident, if her mental illness progressed to the point of aggression, is almost easier to swallow than Mal choosing to end her own life.

“She killed herself right in front of me, Arthur!” Cobb’s voice is muffled, like he’s trying to mask his grief. “Just out of my reach – I tried to stop her and I couldn’t – and you call me and ask me something like that? Do you think that little of me?”

“No,” Arthur says, keeping his tone even, though he’s sure his voice sounds as thick as Cobb’s. “I don’t. I’m sorry, I had to ask.”

All Arthur can hear are Cobb’s ragged breaths. “I don’t blame you,” he finally says, voice raw. “I’d have asked too, if I were you.”

Arthur stares out at the rain, so heavy against the windowpane it sounds like it could break the glass. “I’m going to come out for the funeral.”

“I’ll be long gone by then,” Cobb says flatly, like there’s nothing to discuss, and Arthur understands that there isn’t. They think he did it, so he can’t stay. “I’ll go abroad and lay low for awhile. I won’t say where, in case they ask you. After it dies down I’ll try to get some work for myself. Can I reach out to you in a few months?”

“Of course.”

“My children will be with their grandparents at the funeral.” Cobb hesitates.

“Any message for them?” Arthur prompts when Cobb doesn’t go on.

Cobb exhales loudly. “No. I’ll make it back to them soon.”

They say a stilted goodbye – Arthur knows it’s the last he’ll hear from Cobb for a good long time – and hang up.

Mal is buried on a sunny day in California, and Arthur is sweating bullets in his black suit. Phillipa wears a black taffeta dress and holds her brother’s hand, who has on a little black vest and shoes that won’t stay tied. Both children start crying when they lower the coffin into the earth. Arthur’s chest feels tight.

There’s a reception in the Cobbs’ home after, but with neither of them there the place doesn’t feel like theirs. The photo from their wedding has been removed from the entryway, and placed in the center of the living room is a blown up photo of Mal, one where she’s laughing and her eyes are sparkling the way they did before. James eats cheese and crackers, looking bewildered by the amount of people in his house when none of them are his parents. Phillipa sits on the edge of the couch, staring down at her hands folded politely in her lap.

Arthur sits down next to her. James takes after Cobb, but Phillipa’s dark eyes are all Mal. They don’t say anything to each other, but Arthur hugs both children tight. The room is crowded, Mal was well-liked, but Arthur feels painfully, crushingly alone. It’s like the walls are collapsing around him. It’s like in a shared dream when the projections finally converge to rip him apart. He loosens his tie, and it doesn’t help. He has to get out of here.

Arthur makes it to the bathroom before his knees buckle and he finally collapses under the weight of his grief. He cries, furious with himself for it, but who cares, who cares when Mal is gone?

When he’s cried all he can he stands, splashes water on his face so he can feel and look a little less pathetic. Then he walks out of the bathroom and out of the Cobbs’ house, gets in a cab to head for the airport.

He’ll go overseas. He’ll find something to do in the meantime and wait for Cobb to get in touch.

There’s work yet to do.

**Author's Note:**

> I set myself a challenge to write a fic for (almost) every possible Inception ship. This is the first.


End file.
